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015 906 316 1 



Hollinger Corp. 
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IS HE 
SATISFIED? 



IS HE SATISFIED? 



BY 

^IJZABETH DWIGHT CI.ARK 



PORTLAND, MAINE 
1905 






jUBKAKYof GCNGKEss'J 
I Two Copies rtec«veu { 

JUL 5 1905 






'Zooji/ngni tntry 



Copyright, 1905 

BY 

Elizabeth Dwight Clark 



IS HE SATISFIED? 

"I shall be satisfied," This oft repeating, 

I heard sweet voices carol, until sleep 

Came silently, my weary senses meeting ; 

Then far away the voices grew and deep ; 

And when at length, was hushed their joyous 
strain, 

My lips took up the lost refrain ; 

But as in dreams, I wandered far and wide, 

One word I changed, and sang " I must be 
satisfied." 



II 

L,ed by a hand unseen — still was I sleeping— 

Came I, ere long, within a spacious field, 

Where, stem on stem before me, felled by reaping, 

Iyay ripened wheat, the summer's plentious yield. 

And as the morning sun uprising, sparkling, 
beamed, 

Each dewy spike a row of jewels seemed, 

My eyes, enchanted, roved from side to side, 

Yet sang I, not I am, but must be satisfied. 



Ill 



A still small voice, and though its source 
unknowing, 

Its power I felt, "Thy work" it said, "lies here. 

Between these lines glean thou, till glowing 

Far down awest, thy day's light doth appear, 

With its last rays, the Master good shall come;" 

"Ah yes," I cried, "and then for Harvest Home ; 

And if in worth excelling all beside, 

My sheaves the Master find, I shall be satisfied." 



IV 

Eager, intent, the appointed task beginning, 
I gathered from the stalks about my feet. 
More and more gathered, till I knew for winning, 
The wished for end, alas, they were not meet. 
Stems, leaves and grain, how dwarfed were they ; 
Drooping their spikes, I cast them all away. 
"Shall my short day to these be given ?" I cried ; 
"With gleaning only this, can I be satisfied ? " 



V 

"Ah, no," and in the near beyond espying, 

A finer growth my bounds I over stept ; 

Farther and farther moved, defying 

The gentle voice that, faithful ever, kept 

Its rhythmic measure, "Here thy work lies, here, " 

Above it rose ambition's accents clear; 

"Go on," her song, "till all thy taste and pride 

Require, be thine, and thou be satisfied." 



VI 

Anon, behold me ; can I have been dreaming ? 

Amid tall, graceful, finely rounded sheaves. 

Proud as I gazed,with life they all seemed teeming, 

So straight their stalks and spikes, so green their 
leaves. 

But when I said, one more I'll fashion, lo 

A reddening light, the west was all aglow ; 

And in the deepening shade the Master gained 
my side, 

And found me with my sheaves, so satisfied. 



VII 

Around me, up and down, voices admiring, 

With loudest peans, filled the misty air, 

Like tokens from my Master's lips desiring, 

I sought His face, no answering gleam was there ; 

Backward He turned my gaze, to where my ear 

First caught the low-breathed word, "Thy work 
lies here, 

Between these lines glean thou till eventide." 

O sinking heart of mine, again unsatisfied ? 



VIII 

No evening there ; the daylight not yet dying, 

Revealed to me, forms bent by sore dismay ; 

Their hope of future sustenance still lying 

Untouched, as at the early day, 

Save where some feeble hands had striven my 
place to fill, 

And reared sheaves few and small with naught of 
skill. 

The Master's smile that effort glorified, 

'Twas "What they could," and He was satisfied. 



IX 



"Let me go back," I cried, before Him kneeling, 

"Glad will I leave these scenes, erstwhile 
beloved ; 

There, still is light ; I will atone," appealing 

Was vain, the Master all unmoved ; 

"Too late," He said, "too late, behold thy sun 

His last ray calleth home, thy day is done. 

What thou alone coulds't give, hast thou denied ; 

With thee am I forever more unsatisfied." 



"Unsatisfied forever," words hope crushing; 

I sank to earth, when, joy of joys, I woke ; 

Once more to greet a new morn fair and blushing, 

Whose softly radiant light the dream-spell broke. 

But on my heart as if by angels penned, 

This precept lies, — "Where'er thy days thou 
spend, 

Lowly or irksome if the tasks He send, 

This thy ambition be, and this thy pride, 

That with thy life, through His, the Christ, be 
satisfied." 



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